


Amateur Chiropractor

by Verabird



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Actual married couple, M/M, Ridiculous, pretty much crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 11:36:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3766651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verabird/pseuds/Verabird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This quote from Terrence Dicks got my silly imagination going:</p><p>"Roger Delgado…was one of the few people who knew how to put Jon’s back back, and I remember going in the studio and seeing Jon lying face down and Roger kneeling on top of him with a knee in the middle of his back, yanking his arm or something. You know, there was a particular trick to it."</p><p>And hence this was born.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amateur Chiropractor

“We meet again my dear Doctor.”

“You,” The Doctor says, voice dripping with grim regret. “I should have known you’d be behind this.”

“Was it that obvious?”

The Master frowns a little and gives the Doctor a curious look. He holds the Tissue Compression Eliminator before him with a steady hand, pointing it directly at the Doctor’s chest.

“No one else could take over the Earth with such style.”

“Why thank you Doctor.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

The Master furrows his brow again and takes a slow step forward. He raises his weapon with a precise hand and the Doctor stares back with cool defiance.

“So, what’s the plan this time?”

The Master laughs. “Oh yes, you’d like to know wouldn’t you.”

“As a matter of fact yes. Now if you’d just…” He moves forward, carefully reaching with one hand for the TCE, slow steady movements like a lion tamer.

“No no no,” The Master says quickly. He flicks his weapon upwards stopping the Doctor in his tracks. “Hands up!”

The sudden shout startles the Doctor and he throws his arms up without much thought on the command.

“Agh!” He cries out and pulls his arms back down again.

“None of your tricks Doctor,” The Master warns. “It’s time for your surrender.”

“Oh Rassilon!” The Doctor exclaims followed by a healthy stream of Gallifreyan curse words. The Master looks at him curiously. One hand is clutched on his lower back, bent slightly at the waist, the other out in front of him.

“What’s wrong? What are you doing?”

The Doctor looks up and is both surprised and annoyed to see concern on the Master’s face. He tries to stretch out and crack his painful back, but he just succeeds in hurting himself more.

“Blasted thing!” He groans.

The Master slides his weapon into his pocket and rushes over towards the Doctor. He places a hand on his shoulder and assesses the damage.

“I didn’t even get to be young. Straight out of the regeneration into this old contraption of a body.”

The Master rolls his eyes and guides the Doctor towards a nearby crate and settles him there. The Doctor flops down slightly over his knees, wincing.

“It’s my back you see. It causes me terrible grief.”

“Yes, I gathered that.”

The Master is kneading his fingers across the Doctor’s shoulders, pushing and pressing in all the right places. The Doctor lets out an involuntary moan in surprise.

“Steady on old chap,” He says as the Master’s fingers begin to work away the knots between his shoulder blades. “Easy does it.”

“You old fool,” The Master says, not unkindly, continuing to massage the worst of the pain away. “It’s all that human style martial arts you do. It can’t be good for you, I’ve always thought so.”

“Well, you never said.”

“Didn’t I?”

The Master absently glances his palms down to the Doctor’s lower back and begins to rub in small circles. The Doctor leans back as he lets out an appreciative noise.

“This is all very pleasant and everything but-”

“Quiet my dear, I’m not finished.”

The Master places a hand over the Doctor’s shoulder and pulls back suddenly. The Doctor’s eyes widen in surprise and pain. He shoots up from his seat and away from the Master’s prying hands.

“It’s no use. I need more leverage,” The Master says casually.

The Doctor simply stares as the Master cracks his knuckles one by one and flexes his fingers.

“Lie on the floor please.”

“What?”

“On your front, hands by your sides. I can feel the problem area and I need to click it back into place.”

“You can’t be serious,” The Doctor scoffs in derision. He backs away from the Master who is looking back with mild amusement. “Force me onto the floor? Just so you can overpower me no doubt.”

“A thrilling suggestion my dear, but I’m not forcing you to do anything. I merely want to help a poor old fool with his back trouble.”

“Why?” The Doctor asks suspiciously.

“Fighting across the cosmos is a much more exciting prospect than fighting across the home for geriatrics I’ll have to put you in.”

The Doctor considers for a moment. He was at weapon point anyway, and it wasn’t like he couldn’t think fast enough to get out of what the Master put him in. He carefully lowers himself to the floor and positions himself as the Master instructs.

“Not exactly comfortable,” He remarks, face pressed to the cold floor.

“Not to worry, it will be over in a minute.”

The Master straddles the Doctor’s waist and sits back on his thighs, running his fingers along the Doctor’s back, priming him.

“Must you wear this ridiculous cape? It’s really getting in the way.”

“It’s fashionable.”

“If you say so.”

The Master works his thumb into a sweet spot on the lower left side and the Doctor squirms under the expert touch.

“Where did you learn to do this?”

“I dabble in many things Doctor.”

The Doctor huffs unheard, but lets out a small yelp as the Master suddenly puts a knee in the small of his back. He struggles for a moment then goes limp as the Master pushes painfully down on his shoulders.

“Stay still,” He commands. “This shouldn’t hurt a bit.”

He can hear his back crack and echo around the room, and the Master lied; it did hurt. He doesn’t dignify the Master with hearing his cry of pain, but remains stoic as the Master fixes the kinks in his bones.

“Better?” He asks softly, moving back to the gentler caress of his fingers.

“Yes thank you. Now if you’ll just…”

He tries to shift, but the Master’s weight on his thighs is preventing him from moving. The Master’s palms continue to press over him.

“No no Doctor, I think you’re right where I want you.”

“Ah yes, of course the evil schemes have extended to giving me massages.”

The Master prods him in the small of his back, prompting a low whimper and the Doctor shuts up. It’s not unpleasant, he thinks. He could imagine more comfortable scenarios involving himself and the Master’s surprisingly dexterous fingers, but this will do for now.

“Doctor!” The door behind them bursts open and two heads turn towards the commotion. “Are you okay? What the devil-?!”

The Doctor opens his mouth, then closes it again, then opens, like a fish drowning in air.

“Brigadier, I can explain!”

The Master watches in vague amusement before kneading hard into the Doctor’s lower back. He yelps and squirms under the touch.

“I don’t want to know,” The Brigadier says as he leaves and closes the door behind him.


End file.
